


Broken Butts

by HiGuy258



Series: Dream SMP Toys AU [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cartoon Physics, Comedy, Crack, Dream dies!!! hooray!!!, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Physical Manipulation, Technoblade & Phil Watson Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, no beta we die like tommy's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiGuy258/pseuds/HiGuy258
Summary: TommyInnit has a very bad day.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP Toys AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154219
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Broken Butts

**Author's Note:**

> this is my formal apology for making chapter 11 exist

“Well Phil we did it, Dream is no more.”

“Yeah we did, Technomate. Come on, let’s grab the loot!”

Killing Dream wasn’t quite as difficult as the pair expected it to be, Techno was just about on equal skill level with the masked man, and he had been distracting him pretty well until Phil found the opportunity to shoot the man. It only took one crossbow shot, very accurately aimed, right in the gap made between his netherite pants and chestplate. Maybe Phil was just luckier than Dream.

Ha, the self-acclaimed _luckiest speedrunner ever,_ losing to luck. That’s funny. “1 in 7.5 trillion my ass,” Techno quipped.

Techno kneels down to touch the lifeless body, and it poofs into dust instantly, leaving behind a little pile of stuff. He and Phil begin to parse around the pile, pocketing potions, a bunch of gapples, a couple god apples even, and a few undying totems. That’s not to mention all the weapons and generic supplies he had on him, sword, axe, crossbow, arrows, armor, everything the warring man-on-the-go would need.

“Heh?” Techno questions. At the very bottom of the pile were two sticks bundled together in a cross with string, and they were glowing like they were enchanted. What the hell kind of an enchantment was useful on _sticks?_

Phil noticed his confusion. “What is it, Techno, what did he have?”

“I, uh... I don’t know,” as he picked up the sticks to show Phil. “It looks like some sorta enchanted sticks, and they’re tied together in the middle. I have no idea what it’s for.” Techno had been turning it over repeatedly in his hand, bringing it to and away from his face, inspecting every inch of the perfectly smooth wooden surface. He even tried shaking them to see if something rattled. It was worth a shot.

“Well, pass it here, Techno, let me take a look.” Phil held up his hands, motioning Techno to toss the item to him. He obliged, holding them underhand and giving it a light toss in Phil’s direction, letting it twirl through the air as he caught it.

Going through the same process as Techno, Phil turns the sticks over repeatedly, looks at it, but doesn't shake it. Instead, he gives it a toss to himself, to see how light they are in the air, but he fails to catch it and it lands on the grass. “Oops.”

Techno gives a snort in laughter and grins. “Nice catch, butterfingers.” he jokes.

Phil puts on a look of mock offense at the... offense. “I’d like to see you do better, Techno.”

Techno belts a booming, deep laugh. “You know I can’t resist a challenge. Sure, old man, pass it over here.” He starts to walk backwards, expanding the distance between the two players.

Phil passes the sticks over to him, overhand this time. They sail through the air, and Techno catches them easily. “Told you I could!” he shouts victoriously.

Phil rolls his eyes. “Fine, you win. Let’s just go home, I want to figure out that those sticks are all about.”

Techno tosses the sticks in his inventory and walks off in the direction of their snowy cabin.

* * *

Tommy’s been having a shit day, but that’s pretty normal in his exile. He’s been out here for at least a month, probably longer. At least Dream decided to mostly leave him alone today. The lack of company made it pretty boring, but at least Ghostbur was there, doing whatever ghosts do. God, he hated Dream. Especially a few days into his exile when he enchanted some sorta sticks and linked them to Tommy, and Dream would recline and play with him, making Tommy do whatever he wanted to do.

There were a few possibilities that could come out of being treated like Dream’s personal plaything day in and day out. He decided that the most likely outcome was that he would eventually become all depressed and shit, start referring to himself as just another item, because _ohh items aren’t supposed to have feelings, aren’t supposed to think for themselves, mememememe._

But nah, that didn’t happen. Tommy was still just as pissed as he was on day one.

He was eating lunch in the little house Ghostbur made inside the log campsite next to his tent. Like pretty much every day, it was the signature soup of Mushroom Henry, the Mooshroom that lived in the campsite. Sure it tasted good and all, but eating only a little more than just mushroom stew every day got really lame.

Tommy’s bringing the spoon of soup up to his mouth when his arm stops moving, instantly recognizing what that means. Seriously? While he’s _eating?_

“Fuck,” he groans.

Suddenly, before he even has time to scream and react, Tommy’s entire body flips to the side out of the chair he’s sitting in. It’s a tight circle as he gets slammed onto his side on the hardwood floor.

He flips again, this time back in the general direction of the chair, knocking it over. The next flip knocks the whole table over. This time, he _is_ screaming.

“ ** _AAAAAHHH_** _, WHAT THE SHIT!! WILBUR, HELP ME!!_ ”

Ghostbur rushes into the building as fast as he can. “ _Tommy?! Tommy, what’s wrong!?_ ”

“ _Wilbur, help me!!_ I’m- being fucken’ pulled- pulled around! _GET ME OUTSIDE- QUICK! Before- I SMASH into-_ ” He’s forced to cut his sentences in the middle as he undergoes flip after flip, turn after turn, sometimes rotating. One time he’s even sitting on the floor when his torso shakes up and down, slamming him on his ass every time. “ _Oww, that shit hurts! What the fu-hu-uck!?_ Wil- Ghost- I don’t _fucking_ care! _Get me OUT of-_!”

Tommy’s sentence gets cut off as he’s sent sailing towards the wall, arms flailing, head first. **_Bonk!_ ** He slams the wall as expected, then slumps down onto the floor. The teenager can see little stars circling around his head, then shakes them away violently.

He’s exasperated. “Ghostbur you are so shit.”

The spirit snickers. “What do you want me to do, Tommy? I phase right through you. You want me to push you through the door with these air hands?” He holds up his “air hands.”

“ _Then just mine the goddamn wall or sum’mit!_ I’ve already trashed this whole fucking place! _And_ my ass is sore.” The boy complains.

“Oh, you’re right! Why didn’t I think of that?” the ghost realized.

He starts to mine the wall out big enough to let Tommy through. “Ghostbur you are so fuckin’- _no, NO GHOSTBUR GO FASTER-_ ” He starts to flip and turn about wildly, just as before.

“Tommy please I’m going as fast as I can!”

“ _WELL GO- FASTER!!_ I am- fucking- _dying_ over here!!” He screams between more flips, more turns, just general acrobatics, really. Instead of shaking, this time he flies straight up in the air, smacks the ceiling with the front of his body, and falls back to earth. On his ass. Again.

All the air gets pushed out of Tommy’s lungs in an instant.

He wheezes. “Ghostbur I think my butt’s broken.”

Tommy’s late brother can’t hold it back and he lets out a hysteric, however wispy and ethereal, laugh.

“Stop iiit, it’s not funny. I am in excruciating pain right now Ghostbur.” The ghost just laughs even harder, tumbling over while still floating in the air.

Tommy notices the hole in the wall is big enough for him and he jumps up and fucking _sprints_ for the outside world. He dashes right towards the big plains biome because he doesn’t want to smack around any trees either, that would probably be just as bad as it was when he was indoors.

He doesn’t reach the plains a moment too soon, because right as he’s in a good enough spot, Tommy’s body locks up again, ready for another feat of physical fitness. Just as Ghostbur is drifting outside to meet him, phasing through the wall merely a foot away from the hole he just dug in it, Tommy feels himself being pulled backwards by his waist, still standing, dragging his shoes against the dirt.

The pulling stops. Tommy knows what’s about to happen.

He lets out a little pained whimper. It sounds like a sad dog more than anything, really.

Needless to say, Ghostbur is impressed! He watches Tommy soar through the air face first, whole body flailing, with a hand covering his ghostly eyes like the brim of a cap.

Needless to say, Tommy is screaming again.

“ ** _AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!_ ** **Oh,** **_FUUU-_** ” Tommy lands at least a solid 100 feet away from his takeoff point, skidding along the grass from the chest up. His arms and legs are bent in kind of a ‘C’ shape behind him as the ground slows his velocity, and they flop onto the ground once he stops sliding.

Tommy lifts his head slightly, turns it to face the grass in front of him, and lets it fall back down so his chin rests on the dirt. His entire face is covered with clumps of grass and dirt, and his mouth is full of it. In fact, you can’t really see any of his face past the dirt from the tip of his nose downwards. His eyes are half-lidded, their expression wholly unimpressed.

Ghostbur drifts over, giggling at the sight. “Are you doing okay there, Tommy?”

The teen in question looks at the ghost without turning his head or putting on a different expression. He spits out the dirt. “Ghostbur, do I _look_ fucking okay to you??”

He just laughs again in response.

—o—

Tommy groans loudly. “This is a shit day.”

He winces in pain as he’s dragged backwards over more uneven dirt by the seat of his pants, bouncing slightly from the little changes in elevation.

“This is a shitty _shit_ day.”

Tommy pouts as he’s being dragged to fuck-knows-where, arms crossed tightly, with a very angry look in his eyebrows and a big frown. His cheeks are even puffed out slightly, matching the rest of his expression.

“I think your trousers are being pulled down by the grass, big man.” Ghostbur points out with a smirk.

After looking up at the ghost incredulously, Tommy then shifts his gaze back down at his pants. Oh, _fuck-_

“Oop!” He quickly pulls the waist of his pants back up before his legs have the opportunity to start showing. He glances up at Ghostbur who’s covering his mouth with his hand and grinning wildly. Tommy feels his entire face turn bright red. “Y-you didn’t see that.”

His brother’s spectral form doubles over in yet more laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry, im also reminded of that one spongebob episode where he breaks his butt and has to stay inside forever
> 
> I told you I would give you serotonin after the fucking trainwreck (as in you can't look away no matter how awful it is) that is chapter 11 of the main fic, so here it is.
> 
> I've had this idea for quite a while, in fact, this was one of the ideas I had for the main fic concerning how Tommy breaks free from the sticks influence, but I somehow made it really funny. I don't know either.
> 
> Enjoy! This one's a ton of fun to write, I'm sure it'll be just as fun to read.


End file.
